The Hell I Went Through to get Baptized in the Holy Spirit
(Please note my previous post was a Prelude to this one.)
The Friday night Bible study in 1975 was the second I attended, and when the leader asked this time if anyone wanted to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, I stood up and was beckoned forward. I was convinced the Bible was true. I had in a recent meditation encountered a demon who had been trying to deceive me into allowing it into my mind, and I figured that if it was real (and it was), then things really were the way the Bible said they were. That would mean Jesus really was the son of God, too. After being raised a Christian I had gotten into Eastern religions and the occult -- going the wrong way! -- and I was turning around.
Before he addressed me, the leader looked pointedly at a scroungy young man sprawled in an overstuffed chair and said to him directly, "What about you, buddy? Do you want to confess Jesus as your Lord and Savior?" The young man shook his head yes and, rising to stand, raised his hands and started bawling in tongues. I had no reaction like that. I felt good about acknowledging Jesus Christ as the Son of God as the Bible says, but no amount of coaxing could get anything more out of me. Not that I didn't want more. Everyone at the House of Praise spoke in tongues.
A few weeks later my friend wanted to attend an evening performance at Grace Bible Church in Honolulu, and I accompanied him. Everyone there spoke in tongues, too, like it was the normal thing to do. After the service my friend talked at length with some of the younger elders and retired with them into the Fellowship Center. He wanted the gift of tongues, too, and had never received it. I waited a LONG time outside in the vestibule. (Hey, this was after an EVENING service.) At length one of the elders/ministers came out and asked me if I spoke in tongues, and if I would like to pray for the gift like my friend was doing. Well, why not?
Kneeling at a folding chair between two ministers, I gave Jesus my mouth to speak with. Nothing. So I gave Jesus my lips and tongue to speak with. Nada. I gave him my breath, my lungs, my larynx, my muscles, my volition to speak, my volition to breathe, my future, my future children if I should ever have any. Zilch. I gave him my whole life, and he wouldn't touch me with a proverbial ten-foot pole. Not only no tongues, he utterly rejected me. I cried.
There was something that God was rejecting me for. I knew that, but I did not know what it was. How could I give it? I had no clue as to what it was. God was rejecting me for something I did not know and therefore could not give, and I could not be accepted until I gave it! Can you give me a clue?
I found myself following a path in a dry river bed. As I trode along a concrete wall rose along my right side. Eventually the trail came to a gap in the wall, but the gap was blocked by a huge, giant cube. A block. I did not know what the block was. I couldn't get around it. I jumped. It was too high to climb. I thought of doubling back to where the wall was lower and coming up the other side, but the path did not extend past the block on the other side, it went down below it.
I was apoplexed. I can't get over it, can't get around it, can't get under it, I can't even identify what it is, and yet I can't get accepted by God until I give it to him. So I did. I said (at considerable risk to myself, I might add, because I did not know what the consequences of my giving it to God might be), "Lord, I do not know what this is, but whatever it is, I give it to you." And I did.
The block disappeared and I saw the path descend to an underground level. A deeper, spiritual plain. I cannot remember many details, but it seemed military-ish, the lighting evoked a memory of the Combat Information Center on the destroyer I was stationed on in the Navy. I came to a place where the wet, muddy plain of the earth stretched before me. As if an invisible cookie-cutter spoon was used, the figure of a man was scooped out of the earth and placed before me. The mud became bone and sinew and organs and flesh. Hair, too. And then the figure was given life. I wondered what it saw, what it thought.
I was a bit above and behind the man as he looked upon the muddy plain of the earth. "This is the earth," I heard him think. "It is light, day. It will get dark. Cold. Dangerous. I had better find shelter in those hills in the distance." I followed him, marveling that I could see through his eyes and hear his thoughts. At least I imagined I could. We looked in a cave, wondering if there was anything in it that might charge out to eat us. Scary. "Maybe I should make an enclosure in the trees. And I'd better find firewood," I thought, as it would get dark and cold and I had nothing with which to cover myself. Food. I'd better find something to eat. Good God, how do you know what is edible if you've never seen plants before? If I find something, should I plant its seeds today so that I'll have food tomorrow? Should I find a safe cave first, or firewood first, gather or plant? Oh my God, I've got SO many things to do!
Then I saw it. A moment ago I was just mud, a lump of lifeless minerals. Then God in his grace gave me life, and I had run away with it! I had always managed MY life for whatever that was pressing to ME. I took care of MY concerns, MY purposes. I had never thanked God for giving me life, nor had I asked him what he made me FOR. It had never occurred to me. He must have had a purpose in mind when he made me: I am not just an extra, a surplus. There was something I was created to do, something just for ME to do, and I have robbed God of that. I am a thief, a rebel, guilty of rebellion as witchcraft. I have exercised lordship over this life as if it were mine, but it is HIS! The second shoe dropped: I had "given" MY life to God as though I were his peer, as if if I did not like what he did with me, I would take myself back. Of course he would not accept the gift of "MY" life, it was already HIS. I had offered myself in rebellion, as separate, independent, and his equal.
For a moment I was in terror. My rebellion had to stop. Self-lordship, self-control had to STOP, completely and utterly. I had to COMPLETELY subject myself to God's lordship -- whatever he wills, whatever it takes to fulfill his purpose for me. But first I have to undo MY lordship. I did not know if I would take another breath, or if I might fall as a blob on the floor, but in a miracle of psychological volition, I CAST self-control out of myself. I relaxed and abdicated completely. And God caught me. Without supporting myself I remained upright. And breathing. But nothing of myself; and I waited. Sorry, ministers, but I waited.
Kneeling in a beautiful mountain glen with a felled tree before me, I sensed the rosy glow of God's Glory speading across the sky above me. I lowered my eyes in respect and humility, almost afraid to look upon God. I said mentally, "YOU are glorious God, I am a mud man. I belong to you. Whatever you want me to do, that I will do."
I expected some sort of direction or assignment. Instead I heard the faintest of voices, distant yet present, soft yet unmistakeable: "Remember this, and it is all right." "All right," I rehearsed in my mind, "It is all right." He forgave me! He accepted me! My heart shot to heaven. The emotions of love and adoration and appreciation and gratitude burst forth and welled up as power in my abdomen. Ecstasy filled me like water rising higher and higher until it neared my throat and my jaw and lips started to quiver. Rising higher my mouth started to move as though forming words, and the minister next to me (my God, you're still here?) said, "Don't try to control it." I had no intention of trying to controlling anything. I just raised my hands and with absolute abandon expressed all the appreciation and adoration that was in my heart in a language that sounded like a dialect of Chinese or Korean, neither of which I knew.
From the time I knelt to receive I thought the gift of tongues, until I was accepted by God and filled with the Holy Spirit, it was just me and God, mano y mano. Anyone one can do this at any time, anywhere. Sort yourself out with God. And what is it for? If I am not mistaken, this is God's introduction to prayer. "Ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you" (Acts 1:8). Power in Prayer is, I believe, the biblical definition of the word "bless." "I will bless you" means "I will put power in your prayer." Not for our sake, but for his. "Ye shall be witnesses unto me . . . unto the uttermost part of the earth" is the second part of the verse. We do not have to be in a church or represent a church. We represent God, Allaha. The Godhood. The Power is just to be taken with the right frame of mind -- this is His Life, and we do whatever He wills -- full of praise and glory.
The Friday night Bible study in 1975 was the second I attended, and when the leader asked this time if anyone wanted to accept Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, I stood up and was beckoned forward. I was convinced the Bible was true. I had in a recent meditation encountered a demon who had been trying to deceive me into allowing it into my mind, and I figured that if it was real (and it was), then things really were the way the Bible said they were. That would mean Jesus really was the son of God, too. After being raised a Christian I had gotten into Eastern religions and the occult -- going the wrong way! -- and I was turning around.
Before he addressed me, the leader looked pointedly at a scroungy young man sprawled in an overstuffed chair and said to him directly, "What about you, buddy? Do you want to confess Jesus as your Lord and Savior?" The young man shook his head yes and, rising to stand, raised his hands and started bawling in tongues. I had no reaction like that. I felt good about acknowledging Jesus Christ as the Son of God as the Bible says, but no amount of coaxing could get anything more out of me. Not that I didn't want more. Everyone at the House of Praise spoke in tongues.
A few weeks later my friend wanted to attend an evening performance at Grace Bible Church in Honolulu, and I accompanied him. Everyone there spoke in tongues, too, like it was the normal thing to do. After the service my friend talked at length with some of the younger elders and retired with them into the Fellowship Center. He wanted the gift of tongues, too, and had never received it. I waited a LONG time outside in the vestibule. (Hey, this was after an EVENING service.) At length one of the elders/ministers came out and asked me if I spoke in tongues, and if I would like to pray for the gift like my friend was doing. Well, why not?
Kneeling at a folding chair between two ministers, I gave Jesus my mouth to speak with. Nothing. So I gave Jesus my lips and tongue to speak with. Nada. I gave him my breath, my lungs, my larynx, my muscles, my volition to speak, my volition to breathe, my future, my future children if I should ever have any. Zilch. I gave him my whole life, and he wouldn't touch me with a proverbial ten-foot pole. Not only no tongues, he utterly rejected me. I cried.
There was something that God was rejecting me for. I knew that, but I did not know what it was. How could I give it? I had no clue as to what it was. God was rejecting me for something I did not know and therefore could not give, and I could not be accepted until I gave it! Can you give me a clue?
I found myself following a path in a dry river bed. As I trode along a concrete wall rose along my right side. Eventually the trail came to a gap in the wall, but the gap was blocked by a huge, giant cube. A block. I did not know what the block was. I couldn't get around it. I jumped. It was too high to climb. I thought of doubling back to where the wall was lower and coming up the other side, but the path did not extend past the block on the other side, it went down below it.
I was apoplexed. I can't get over it, can't get around it, can't get under it, I can't even identify what it is, and yet I can't get accepted by God until I give it to him. So I did. I said (at considerable risk to myself, I might add, because I did not know what the consequences of my giving it to God might be), "Lord, I do not know what this is, but whatever it is, I give it to you." And I did.
The block disappeared and I saw the path descend to an underground level. A deeper, spiritual plain. I cannot remember many details, but it seemed military-ish, the lighting evoked a memory of the Combat Information Center on the destroyer I was stationed on in the Navy. I came to a place where the wet, muddy plain of the earth stretched before me. As if an invisible cookie-cutter spoon was used, the figure of a man was scooped out of the earth and placed before me. The mud became bone and sinew and organs and flesh. Hair, too. And then the figure was given life. I wondered what it saw, what it thought.
I was a bit above and behind the man as he looked upon the muddy plain of the earth. "This is the earth," I heard him think. "It is light, day. It will get dark. Cold. Dangerous. I had better find shelter in those hills in the distance." I followed him, marveling that I could see through his eyes and hear his thoughts. At least I imagined I could. We looked in a cave, wondering if there was anything in it that might charge out to eat us. Scary. "Maybe I should make an enclosure in the trees. And I'd better find firewood," I thought, as it would get dark and cold and I had nothing with which to cover myself. Food. I'd better find something to eat. Good God, how do you know what is edible if you've never seen plants before? If I find something, should I plant its seeds today so that I'll have food tomorrow? Should I find a safe cave first, or firewood first, gather or plant? Oh my God, I've got SO many things to do!
Then I saw it. A moment ago I was just mud, a lump of lifeless minerals. Then God in his grace gave me life, and I had run away with it! I had always managed MY life for whatever that was pressing to ME. I took care of MY concerns, MY purposes. I had never thanked God for giving me life, nor had I asked him what he made me FOR. It had never occurred to me. He must have had a purpose in mind when he made me: I am not just an extra, a surplus. There was something I was created to do, something just for ME to do, and I have robbed God of that. I am a thief, a rebel, guilty of rebellion as witchcraft. I have exercised lordship over this life as if it were mine, but it is HIS! The second shoe dropped: I had "given" MY life to God as though I were his peer, as if if I did not like what he did with me, I would take myself back. Of course he would not accept the gift of "MY" life, it was already HIS. I had offered myself in rebellion, as separate, independent, and his equal.
For a moment I was in terror. My rebellion had to stop. Self-lordship, self-control had to STOP, completely and utterly. I had to COMPLETELY subject myself to God's lordship -- whatever he wills, whatever it takes to fulfill his purpose for me. But first I have to undo MY lordship. I did not know if I would take another breath, or if I might fall as a blob on the floor, but in a miracle of psychological volition, I CAST self-control out of myself. I relaxed and abdicated completely. And God caught me. Without supporting myself I remained upright. And breathing. But nothing of myself; and I waited. Sorry, ministers, but I waited.
Kneeling in a beautiful mountain glen with a felled tree before me, I sensed the rosy glow of God's Glory speading across the sky above me. I lowered my eyes in respect and humility, almost afraid to look upon God. I said mentally, "YOU are glorious God, I am a mud man. I belong to you. Whatever you want me to do, that I will do."
I expected some sort of direction or assignment. Instead I heard the faintest of voices, distant yet present, soft yet unmistakeable: "Remember this, and it is all right." "All right," I rehearsed in my mind, "It is all right." He forgave me! He accepted me! My heart shot to heaven. The emotions of love and adoration and appreciation and gratitude burst forth and welled up as power in my abdomen. Ecstasy filled me like water rising higher and higher until it neared my throat and my jaw and lips started to quiver. Rising higher my mouth started to move as though forming words, and the minister next to me (my God, you're still here?) said, "Don't try to control it." I had no intention of trying to controlling anything. I just raised my hands and with absolute abandon expressed all the appreciation and adoration that was in my heart in a language that sounded like a dialect of Chinese or Korean, neither of which I knew.
From the time I knelt to receive I thought the gift of tongues, until I was accepted by God and filled with the Holy Spirit, it was just me and God, mano y mano. Anyone one can do this at any time, anywhere. Sort yourself out with God. And what is it for? If I am not mistaken, this is God's introduction to prayer. "Ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you" (Acts 1:8). Power in Prayer is, I believe, the biblical definition of the word "bless." "I will bless you" means "I will put power in your prayer." Not for our sake, but for his. "Ye shall be witnesses unto me . . . unto the uttermost part of the earth" is the second part of the verse. We do not have to be in a church or represent a church. We represent God, Allaha. The Godhood. The Power is just to be taken with the right frame of mind -- this is His Life, and we do whatever He wills -- full of praise and glory.
posted by Daniel C. Branham-Steele at
4:01 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home